Gifts and Curses
by the-reckless-dreamer
Summary: Zachary Goode protects his Gallagher, even if she doesn't know. Let alone care. A song-fic to 'Gifts and Curses', by Yellowcard. Zach's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Edited 8/9/13- Like with 'Love Lives On', I am only fixing grammar errors. Even though I am aching to start completely over, I will leave it for the sake of preserving what I wrote (four years ago? Three?) back then. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!**

**I dedicate this story to district12straightshot, because the part where Zach is writing the letters was her idea, and I just kind of revised it, but her's was better!**

**Disclaimer-I own nothing.**

* * *

_Mary belong to the words of a song_

_I try to be strong for her_

_Try not to be wrong for her_

_But she will not wait for me anymore, anymore_

_Why did I say all those things before?_

_I was sure..._

_ooo_

I put on the stupid itchy wig that had caught my eye when I went disguise searching in Blackthorne's stash. I finished the look by donning huge glasses, fake eyesbrows, and a beard. Heck, if I didn't get to anyone to warn them about Cammie, I could try and pass off as Einstein...

Man, if Grant saw me right now... he would die of laughter (it wouldn't be the first time...)

I walked out of the bathroom stall where I had changed (I know... pretty amateur, but as long as the same people who saw you go in aren't there, it works quite well) and took a peek in the mirror, surveying my very authentic looking disguise. And even though I knew that a spy's worst fear is being recognized, I couldn't help but wonder if she would see through my disguise, I couldn't help but hope...

Wow, Grant's right, I'm such a girl.

I left the bathroom, stashing my bag in a very covert location (aka, the empty trashcan with the lid on top), I gathered my papers around me (because it's part of my cover and all) and headed down the hallway. All around me, frazzled people scurried down the hall, dashing in and out of doors, yelling at each other, complaining about how much their life sucks right now and so on.

I finally reached the hallway with the doors leading to the main passageway under the hotel and the convention canter, and then I opened it. The hallways was a dark beige color, the carpet the same to and the dim lighting just made the beige look more like brown, it's a wonder people can even see down here.

I exited one of the few doors that were on the side of the long hall and like all of the people, I blended, I started walking really fast, and pretended to be going somewhere, and I ended up walking into the huge convention center- only to make a fast, silent loop around that side of the huge complex, and headed back to the tunnel, and when I opened the doors, I saw her.

Her name may be the Chameleon, but she's always stood out to me, she's not exotic like Bex, or flawless like Macey, but there's something about her... I don't know, it's just-

Man, I _really _to get a grip.

I did what I did last time, I walked fast and pretended to have something to do, and, well, out of pure curiosity, I bumper into her, and used my well rehearsed southern accent with an "Excuse me miss." And when I bumped her, I looked her in the eye, trying to tell her it was me... but she just straightened, and joined Macey (who I hadn't really noticed before, which is weird...) I knew that I had to get going... but I did what is considered the unthinkable for spies.

I looked back.

I couldn't help myself, I mean, the last time I had seen her, I finally got up the guts to kiss her, but now... she didn't even recognize me.

Life's just way too ironic for my taste.

_ooo_

_(She is the one) but I have a purpose_

_(She is the one) and I have to fight this_

_(She is the one) the danger I can't knock down_

_ooo_

I crawled as fast as I could, tearing off that stupid wig (I mean it was HOT in there...) and thinking of nothing but Cammie as the panicked yells of the Secret Service guys filled the whole building, but thankfully, they were muffled by the vent walls (well, barely.)

Finally, I reached the laundry room where they would be (according to my calculations and the blueprint of the center and the hotel that Jonas had somehow drawn up off of the internet.) I jumped down from the vent, and landed on a pile of dirty sheets, grateful to find that the Secret Service wasn't there yet.

I looked around, panic and fear setting in, where was she? Did she get caught? But then, I saw them, lying in a heap in a huge old hamper.

I walked over to the hamper, the two girls lying there, unconscious. Macey who's body was normally flawless (well, as far as I could tell, I mean we only lived at Gallagher for one semester…) was crumpled and bruised, her arm looked like a giant purple potato, and her face was covered with giant black marks. And even though her wounds would be a triumph at Blackthorne (or Gallagher, well, maybe) that was nothing compared to Cammie.

She didn't have a broken arm or leg, but bruises –almost as many as Macey- all over her athletic body. But on her face- was a cut, that looked to be about three inches long, and coming from the cut was a steady flow of blood. Blood that covered her face, dripped on her shirt, and the sheets around her.

And despite my cover, the complex legends that I have spent years building, I rushed to her.

The cut on her head was still dripping, but instead of pressing something to it like I should have (to stop the bleeding and all…) I just looked at her. Her face. Her features, and what I was seeing started to really sink in.

Cammie had always liked the truth, the truth and nothing but it, everything had to be black and white, good or bad, and I always liked that about her. I knew that even though she was good –_really _good- there would always be that small bit of ignorance in her, that in truth, it really doesn't matter what side you're on, because eventually, things start to get a little grey.

But now, with this attack and everything, she has to be fully exposed in what she practically volunteered to do.

And truth be told, I kind of wish she hadn't chosen the life that she did.

I heard banging on the door, and the cries (that sounded a little panicked if you ask me….) of "open up, Secret Service!" And I froze, trying to think of what to do (which only took about one-point-two seconds, because a spies mind works a lot faster than the normal mind- obviously.) For some reason, I looked above me, and for some other reason, I took the side of the laundry chute that Cammie had come out of minuets earlier, and hoisted my legs up into the shaft, bracing my feet on one side, and my back on the other, praying that I didn't fall down and right into the secret service.

I don't know how long I stayed there, stuck in that shaft, looking down at the madness below, wondering how long it would be before I could properly walk again… until finally (after three hours twenty seven minuets and fifty six point two seconds) they left (which was very sloppy of them, because the attackers could be back any moment…) So I jumped down onto the hard floor, and walked out of the door I had come out of earlier, like I did it any day of the week.

The convention center was still a-buzz, but not as much, interns were just being quiet, watching the attack on tv as news reporters told about a 'brave' and 'courageous' fight from Macey, some that Winters kid… and Cammie (otherwise known as 'The Roommate'.

I didn't even go back to the bathrooms to grab my stuff; I just walked to the nearest exit (one, of course that wasn't covered with reporters and the papps ) and walked out of the convention center…

Like I did it every day.

After that… things were just a blur, I mean, I remember driving back to Blackthorne, with Grant and Jonas debriefing me about our 'mission' but one thing pumped through my mind…

They wanted her.

I actually have known for a while, but it didn't seem real until now… it was just a threat, nothing more, no one would _dare_ touch a Gallagher Girl (especially a Morgan) but they did dare. And they got too close for my taste.

So I decided to do something about it, right then and there…

I'll make sure she's safe, she's careful, that she doesn't try to go after Macey's (well, her) kidnappers, because that's how she is…

She's a Gallagher Girl.

But she's my Gallagher Girl.

_ooo_

_I see your face with every punch I take_

_And every bone I break, it's all for you_

_And my worst pains are words I cannot say_

_Still I will always fight on for you_

_ooo_

I looked over at my clock... 12:03, damn, I really need to get to bed the logical voice in my head told me. _Finish you letter first_, the other voice said (what am I? Skitzo?) But what was I supposed to write? I mean all I had down was- _For reasons_ _I can't say... I need you to stay home_. But what would that sound like? A weak command that wouldn't make any sense? (Cammie always likes things black and white.)

No, it has to be different.

I crumpled the paper, and tossed it into the trashcan by Jonas's bed that was now overflowed to the point that quite a few of the little pieces of crumpled paper were now under his bed.

"Zach, just say _something_" Grant said in a bored voice as he looked up from his book.

"Well I, uh, really don't know..." I started, trying not to sound stupid (although it had already happened) "uh... what to say?" That made Grant laugh.

"Wow, this is a historic day for sure," he said, and then his face got serious "Zach, it's not for sure about her being the target... is it?"

I leaned back in my chair, and thought about it...

What if they were't after_Cammie_ but Macey, and Cammie just happened to be there? No, that's stupid...

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Does anyone else besides Jonas, you and I know about it?"

"Uh, no?"

"Well, make it a warning then," he suggested "and let her know it's you."

And idea struck, and I pulled out a postcard of the ruby slipper exibit at the Smithsonian, so I wrote _Be Careful._

It was weak, but it would have to do...

I finally turned off the lamp on my desk, but as I did so, something caught my eye, a paper that I had written in case I could think of nothing else...

_I love you_

I took the small note, crumpled in my hand, walked over to the trashcan, and stuffed it into the very bottom.

She wouldn't want to read it anyway...

_ooo_

_Cammie's alive, in the bright New York sky_

_The city lights shine for her_

_Above them I cry for her_

_Everything's small from the ground below, down below_

_What if I fall then where would I go?_

_Would she know?_

_ooo_

I looked around me as the crazed voters tried to get a look at their favorite political pair (Jonas's words… not. mine.) Trying to memorize every face, everything about them, from their clothes to the McHenery-Winters buttons on their shirts and jackets. And I smiled (well, more like smirked) to myself at my clever legend (a button, much like the ones everyone else was sporting, bet, hey, if I was going to do this… well, after all, I might as well do it right. And yes, sarcasm was meant in that statement.)

"It's great being here today," I heard Macey's voice say through the speakers. And I smirked. Again. Because if there was one thing I knew about Gallagher Girls was that if one's there, the others will follow. And even though I wished that in this particular case, that wouldn't happen, but as much as I wish that Cam were just at home studying her Advanced Encryption homework at Gallagher, I knew that it wouldn't happen.

Because having things not go your way is something that you have to learn early in the spy life.

I must have zoned out for most of her speech, because the next thing I could hear was Governor Winters say "our opponents have had four years to talk the talk, but now it's time to _walk the walk_."

Wow, has anybody ever had the guts to tell them that their line is incredibly corny? I mean who came up with that? Britney Spears?

He started his speech, and everyone started to walk over to the stage, crowding everybody closer together (man, they're worse than thousands of thirteen-year-old girls at a Miley Cyrus concert.) But I didn't join the crowd; instead I hung back, and headed for the breach that I had spotted earlier- a corner of one of the banners flying loosely from the pole it was originally attached to.

I didn't want to breach security (of course, although Grant says he's up for the challenge) I just wanted to see if I could talk to Cammie (because even though I had sent her a postcard of the ruby slippers exhibit with 'be careful' I still wanted to see her, if not tell her about the danger, but to just at least warn her… or something like that. Because my best guess was that she was with Macey (which wasn't very accurate of me… but when I'm on stuff like this, and it concerns _her_, I kinda lose my head, a little.) I slipped through the opening, walking ahead, towards the yellow tent.

I heard a noise behind me, the noise of someone slipping between the banner, and I turned around, preparing myself to fight, but instead, seeing Gallagher Girl who had apparently not seen me yet (because she wasn't looking at me like she wanted to kill me yet.)

I was close enough to put my hand on her shoulder, and instead of her whirling on me like she did in the foyer on the last day of school, she flipped me.

Yep, I got my butt kicked by a girl.

But considering the certain girl I'm talking about… can you really blame me?

I landed –hard- on the pavement, and heard the popping of a balloon under my back.

Ouch.

"Hello, Gallagher Girl" was the first stupid thing that popped into my head (and considering what other… uh, three letter phrases that came to mind, this one was the best) and to complete the effect, I smirked (I know… shocker.)

I looked up at her as she just looked down at me, her mouth gaping open (not that I blame her.) After a while of her just staring down at me, her legs pinning my arms at my side, I started to wonder what was going on.

"Hey Gallagher Girl, you going to let me up anytime soon?" I asked, but she didn't budge.

"What are you _doing_ here?" She asked

It's a reasonable question... but one I can't answer.

"I'm _very _interested in Ohio politics," I said... while smirking.

"You can't vote," she said, stepping backwards and almost tripping.

"Yeah, but I can campaign," I said pointing to my –_very clever_- disguise.

After that... she just kind of looked at me, as if she didn't really see me those fifteen minuets she looked at me earlier.

She looked down, her golden-brown hair covering her face as she muttered "You're a long way from Blackthorne."

You're telling me.

"Yeah," I said, plastering a smile on my face, "Well, I heard that Macey McHenrey was going to make her first post-convention public appearance here today-" I stood up and brushed confetti out of her hair, and where's there's one Gallagher Girl, there are usually others."

My smile grew, because it felt nice to actually tell the truth for a change.

"Uh, yeah... we're like smoke and fire that way," she said, putting her hand on her hip, and it would have almost been cute, except she was slightly stuttering when she said it.

I smiled again (and surprisingly it wasn't a smirk) "yeah, something like that."

After that... silence. She just kind of stared at me for a while, so I decided to say... something.

"I thought you vowed to stay out of secret passageways and laundry chutes, but I guess..." I started, finding nothing else to say. I reached up and traced my hand along the bruise that was almost gone... but the memory of her bleeding would be there forever.

Something seemed to click in her head, because she pulled back and said "How did you know about the laundry chute?"

Hmmmmm... I wonder

I pointed to myself and said the most cowardly but cocky thing I could muster "Spy."

I faintly heard a British accent over the comms unit hidden by Cammie's hair "bleachers," she responded.

"Bex?" I guessed.

"Yeah," she answered.

"So, you got backup?" I asked.

"Of course hey are," she said, not even trying to hide the 'duh' in her voice.

And then, I heard in her comms unit, voices that sounded familiar... the Secret Services. And even if I didn't have any training, I couldn't miss the panic in their voices as they said "Alpha team, here's movement under the bleachers.

"Zach, there's someone under-"

But I was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing.**

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_(She is the one) But I have a purpose_

_(She is the one) And I have to fight this_

_(She is the one) This gift is my curse for now..._

_ooo_

"Zach," Solomon nodded his greeting, "What were you able to get?"

I pulled the large folder from it's hiding place within my suit jacket, and handed it to him. He took it, and his already creased brow drew closer together as he read.

"Who gave all of this intel to you?" He asked, and I could tell he was a little curious, at least.

"Some of the guys tat I used to be friends with. I don't know how hey got it, but they gave it to me, and when it was found out..."

I didn't have to finish that sentence.

He nodded solemnly, and opened the folder again, looking though it as if to double-check what he had read.

"She's going to try to protect Macey you know," he said, not looking up from the folder, "it wouldn't surprise me if she was here now," and, as if on cue, a girl in a tight black dress who had long black hair and high heels on virtually slid across the floor about a hundred yards away.

"Just keep an eye out for her," he looked up this time, and I could tell that guilt was written all over his face.

I know that he feels bad about what happened, and I do too (even though neither of us had anything to do with it.)

But there's nothing we can do about it now...

"Keep an eye on her okay?" He said again, and I nodded, and without another word, he left.

After that, I disappeared into the crowd, and headed for the tunnel- my way back to Blackthorne. And once I reached the entrance of the train at the very end of the long line of cars, I went in.

Apparently he Secret Service hadn't really gotten things together yet, because no one was at the entrance to stop me (which was a good thing.) So I'll have to remember that seventeen year old guys in a padded bodysuit that makes them look about three times larger with a three-year-old wig and fake glasses on are not a threat. In fact, I guess that everyone should just let them onto trains where some of the most powerful people in America are kept...

Bravo on the tight security.

I walked through the narrow aisles, nodding to people, and smiling (which I'm pretty sure made me look like a walrus- like Brad Pitt) the whole while looking for halfway secure cover to stay in until the train reaches the designated spot.

There were compartments lining the walls of one cart, and when no one else was around, I tried the doorknobs of each one- every one ending up being locked.

Then, I found one that wasn't.

Number fourteen, not too far away from the entrance, and it had a window, perfect for spotting my drop-off. I tip-toed in (literally) and set my stuff down on the far side of the wall, and I pressed up against it, in case anyone came in and I had to knock them out quickly.

At that moment, I felt kind of stupid, kind of like those kids from the old Scooby-Doo cartoons, sneaking around and avoiding the bad guys.

I don't know how long I stood there (which was sloppy of me) trying to pass the time by doing homework in my head (but this has proven kind of pointless, seeing as how none of the homework never gets done, and besides- I'm no Liz Sutton.) But after a while, I heard a sudden banging on the door, and a familiar voice go "Ms. McHenrey, are you in there? May I have a word?"

Crap.

I pulled away from the wall, getting into fighting stance just in case (because, for one thing, I wasn't Macey McHenrey, and second, I would probably get flattened by one of those Secret Service guys is I was found out, well, they would _try _flatten me anyway, but I doubt they could.) I heard the banging get louder, and I thought, wow, they really are desperate to talk to McHenrey...

But then the door opened.

I was blinded for a second by the sudden blast of light, but I was still able to act immediately. I grabbed at the person, but they dodged it, so I gabbed their hair, feeling the need to get them unconscious as soon as possible so I don't get caught...

But I ended up with a huge wad of black hair in my fist.

I looked from the wig to the girl who had just came barreling into my hideout, and I looked at the wig again, the pieces finally coming together.

"You aren't supposed to be here Gallagher Girl."

I felt anger burning in my chest as I looked down at her. Anger so hot that I felt my whole chest burn and my head buzz...

She's here.

She's here.

They might be here.

"You're telling _me_ that _I _shouldn't be here?" She hissed. I didn't stop to think about her point, I just concentrated on not knocking her out and carrying her back to Gallagher myself.

"It's dangerous." I growled, trying to hide the fact that it was a huge understatement.

"In case you haven't noticed, I can take care of myself." She snapped, but she didn't have time to snap any more, because the train chose that moment to lurch. Instinctively, I opened my arms, and she fell into them, struggling at first, but stopping after a while.

"Shh," I whispered as we heard voices outside the door.

I looked down at her.

I tried not to gulp down the lump that had formed in my throat as she stared up at me beneath long and very fake lashes. Her fake nose had slid a little to the side, and her contacts hid her chocolate brown eyes, but in my mind, I peeled those away, leaving only Cammie...

Oh God.

I fought the urge to kiss her as I held her close still, not wanting to let her go, but knowing that I had to get her out of here...

Who knows how close _they _were by now.

"Nice disguise," I said, almost cringing at my sad and inadequate excuse of a compliment.

"You too," she said, a small smile growing on her lips, "It looked even better in Boston."

At that moment, I felt incredibly stupid, so my mind scrambled for an excuse as to why I was practically stalking her, "Yeah... I-"

But I never got a chance to finish, because I heard a loud knocking on the door. She looked up at me, her fake blue eyes wide with panic.

"Here," I said, gesturing to the only hiding place in the five-by four room, the collapsible bunk.

Outside, I heard a voice yell "Who's got a key for this?"

But by the time the door burst open, Secret Service personnel and McHenrey flooding in, we were already in the bunk...

Pressed together in complete and total blackness.

I think I am starting to like my little missions.

I wrapped my arms around her waist for two reasons, one, because it would give us about two inches more moving space, and two, because I could.

"What's going on Zach?" I heard Cammie whisper through the darkness.

I could hear Abby Morgan outside, lecturing McHenrey about staying in her compartment, but I just looked at Cammie, memorizing every aspect of her face...

Because I didn't know when I might see it again, truthfully.

"You were in Boston, Zach." She said, her voice cracking a little.

"Shhh," I whispered with a jerk at her waist, because the conversation had stopped outside, and I hoped that they hadn't heard her.

We lay there and listened for a second... I could hear McHenrey mumbling something, and after a while of searching through speech patterns in my head, I recognized the other voice as the Winters kid.

"You know, I've been told this is my best suit," he said in a braggy way, I rolled my eyes at his attempt at flirting.

"_That's _how you knew about the laundry chute," she hissed, and I looked in her eyes as the pieces seemed to fall into place in her head. "Why were you there Zach?"

"Not now." I really didn't want to go into all of it- considering the fact that our cover could be blown at any second.

"And don't say it was because we were in danger, because at the time, we _weren't _in any danger."

Haha, yeah right...

"Do you want to take a nap or something?" I asked, my mind desperately scrambling for ways to shut her up.

"Yeah, and while we're on the subject, why are you _here_?" Actually, that was off-subject, but that didn't seem to stop her.

"I could ask the same thing of you, Gallagher Girl, except we should be _shutting up _now."

The voices outside the cabin had stopped, and I could hear some quite familiar sounds coming from those two...

Oh God.

That's disgusting.

"What were you and Mr. Solomon talking about?"

That was it, I was sick and tired of this interrogation.

"You really don't get it, do you?" I twisted so I could look into her face better, and I stared her straight in the eyes, trying to tell her what was really happening. "This is dangerous Cammie," I thought –no, hoped- that calling her by her real name would help her understand, "This is-"

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out the day I woke up with a concussion."

"Don't make light of this," I hissed.

"What about concussion is synonymous with 'making light'?"

"You shouldn't be here," I said, slower now, trying to drill it into her head.

"_You're _here," she snapped.

"Listen, this is no place for..." I drifted off, trying to think of the right word.

"A girl? A student? What, Zach? Tell me what you are that I'm not."

It's not who she is. It's what she has.

She has friends, a family, a home. Sure, my parents were still alive, but they were doing God-knows what –they don't care about me anymore. And I do have friends, Grant and Jonas, but I know that if I died trying to keep Cammie safe, they would be able to live. But what about Cam's friends? Her mom?

"I'm someone who's got nothing to lose."

The world seemed to fade away then. I saw Cammie eyes seem to soften. Maybe she realized that I was someone who had nothing, and she was all I had, all that mattered. Maybe she was finally tired of fighting, and decided to listen to someone else besides herself for once. There were a lot of maybes, but none of them mattered, because I was reaching up to her face, brushing a few strands of golden-brown hair out of her eyes...

But I never got a chance to kiss her.

Because the world had fallen from underneath me.

"Well," I heard McHenrey say, her voice smug, "_this _wasn't on my agenda."

I looked up at McHenrey, and she had her hands on her hips, smiling her smug smirk (hey, that's mine! I knew Grant was right when he said I should copyright it.)

"Ms. McHenrey! Is everything okay in there?" A deep voice called from the other side of the door.

She looked at us, the smug smile still plastered on her lips, as if she knew that her decision right then could either make or break us.

"Everything's fine, I just knocked over a tray," she said, her voice sounding too chipper.

"Shall we send a porter to-"

"No!" She screech, the smile and chipper tone gone. "I just want to be alone, or is that too hard to understand?!"

The person retreated.

I tried to untangle myself from Cammie and a backpack I got my feet tangled into, and I sat on the lower bunk, and Cammie soon plopped down beside me. Macey sat across from us on a small bench, and crossed one leg over the other, seeming to love this way too much.

"Hi Zach," her smile widened.

"Hey, Macey," I said casually, like I did this every day. "Sorry to drop in, but Cammie just _had_ to be alone with me. You know how she gets."

She smacked my arm –hard.

"You know, you're going to hurt me one of these days, and then you're going to feel really bad about it."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you would just be honest with me for one-"

Hey! I _was_ partially honest...

"Um, just so you know," Macey said as she leaned back, enjoying the show, "Abby will be back in a approximately two minuets, so you lovebirds might want to make this quick."

I didn't have a chance to react to the word 'lovebirds', because I grabbed my bag and glanced out the window, my destination near.

"Thanks, this is my stop anyway." Cammie looked up at me like I was crazy as I stood up, like the fact that the train was still movie would stop me from jumping. "Hey, McHenrey, you mind?"

She nodded, and opened the door, peeking outside. "Oh officer, may I see your gun?"

The man turned, and I dashed out into the hall, sprinting to the end of the car. I heard Cammie follow, but I turned to her, making her skid to a stop.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl," I said, my voice softening a little, "Promise me something."

She didn't say anything, so I stepped a little closer.

"Be," I reached up to her head, where the bruise had once been, "Careful."

I didn't kiss her or anything, because I saw Abby coming toward us, her green eyes focused directly on me. I turned back to the door, and opened it.

I jumped, and spread my arms wide.

I looked back at her, her face slightly pressed up to the glass.

"Later Cammie," I whispered as I turned my head back to the rushing water below.


End file.
